


The Cursed Side Of This Family

by SympathyForTheBlinderDevil



Category: Peaky Blinders (TV)
Genre: Alcohol, Angst, Drugs, F/M, Grief/Mourning, Love, Lust, Peaky Blinders - Freeform, Slow Burn, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-01
Updated: 2018-07-15
Packaged: 2019-05-16 17:04:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 20,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14815349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SympathyForTheBlinderDevil/pseuds/SympathyForTheBlinderDevil
Summary: Esme Shelby comes back to Small Heath seeking protection for herself and her children. Polly, glad to see John's kids again, welcomes them with open arms. Tommy struggles as Esme reawakens desires that he had long suppressed. As the story goes on, Tommy and Esme give in to bad habits, and shameful secrets threaten to destroy the Shelby clan.





	1. Esme's Back

**Author's Note:**

> Slow burn, Tommy x Esme, grief, guilt, lust, drugs…What’s not to love?

“Esme’s back, Tom, and she’s brought the children.” Polly moved the tea kettle from the stove to the table.  
At her words, Tommy’s eyes darkened “She’s trouble we don’t need.”  
Aunt Pol poured tea into her cup. “She is the mother of John’s children. Did you hear me? She’s brought John’s children home.” Her words hung in the air with finality. Polly knew that Tommy couldn’t argue against Shelby blood and John’s memory.  
Polly smiled and took a sip, “So it’s settled, then. She stays, and perhaps we can be family again."  
Tommy felt uneasy for a number of reasons. He and Esme had not parted on the best of terms; she blamed him for John’s death, and Tommy was not so sure that Esme was capable of forgiveness. The other reasons had to do with feelings better left in the past; he was not sure if he could handle being around a grief-mad, emotional Esme. Ultimately, though, Tommy knew that he could not argue with Aunt Polly’s logic. Aunt Pol was the heart of the family, and so he put his reservations to one side- for now.  
Earlier that evening, Esme Lee Shelby and the children had ridden into town in a caravan. The Lee family was setting up just outside of town, but Esme chose to get off in Small heath. Pale and thinner than Polly had ever seen her, she swept through the door at Watery Lane, babies in tow. Still mourning, she wore a black lace shawl draped around her tiny frame and a dark velvet scarf around her head. Her hair, braided and hanging to the waist, smelled of campfire smoke. She had been travelling for months, trying to outrun the ghost of her husband, trying to clear her head of the death she had seen, and trying to stay sane.  
Polly was taken aback by Esme’s appearance. Polly had not always cared for Esme’s attitude, but over time she had grown to care about her and accept her as a true family member. It hurt her to see Esme’s gaunt cheeks and bony arms. Greif had taken a toll on the poor girl.  
Despite her fragile appearance, her eyes still shone like black diamonds.  
Polly scooped the baby up from Esme’s lap while the rest of the children gathered around her skirts. Hugging and kissing each child, Polly shifted the baby to her shoulder and began searching the kitchen for treats. “I’m so relieved to see you all. I’ve missed having you in the shop and the kids around the house.”  
“Can we stay here? Will he let us stay for a while?” There was a flinty edge to Esme’s question.  
“Of course you can stay. You are a Shelby. This is your home.”  
“What about Thomas?”  
“You became a Shelby when you married our John. Thomas will forgive you for what you said after…” Polly stopped short of naming the circumstances under which Esme cursed Tommy. Standing in the morgue, within sight of John’s corpse, Esme had uttered a powerful, hateful curse on Tommy and promised that the children would never know him.  
Esme was fully aware of the meaning behind Polly’s unspoken words. “I cursed him, Pol. It was not done in a capricious manner. Thomas understands that I mean what I say.”  
“I will handle Thomas. But, Esme, is something wrong?” Polly was almost afraid to ask. She was so glad to see the children and didn’t want to make Esme feel unwelcome, but she could tell that something was preying on her mind. Something other than uncertainty about Thomas’s reaction was troubling the girl.  
“The children and I need protection. There are people who will do us harm because they are Shelbys and I am John’s widow.”  
“Who would dare…?” Polly breathed.  
“I don’t want to discuss it any further. Not in front of …” Esme nodded toward the children who were playing in the kitchen floor, seemingly oblivious to the adults’ conversation, but no doubt the older two were listening. She was a good mother and wanted to shield her kids from the cruel realities of carrying the Shelby name. They would grow into their roles and have to face their destinies soon enough. “But, I need to speak to Thomas as soon as possible. He should know  
Polly let the subject drop. She was so relieved to see John’s family that she didn’t want to jeopardize their return by pressuring Esme to talk about her reasons for coming back. Any part of John was better than nothing, and so she pressed the point no further. “Let’s get the babies upstairs and beside a warm fire. I’ll bring up some bedclothes and a tray. I’m sure you are exhausted.”  
“Thank you.” Esme looked back at Polly with gratitude as she began up the stairs, her brood trailing behind her. Polly fought back a sob. She was relieved to see the children, but fearful of what business Esme had brought to their door.  
As Polly related the details of the afternoon to Tommy, he sat with his usual studied blank expression. His mind raced with possibilities. Who would be bold enough to threaten John’s widow and children?  
“Tom, after they ate they fell asleep. They’re in John’s old room.”  
Thomas lit a cigarette and inhaled deeply, “She didn’t say where the threat came from?”  
“No, Tommy. I told you, I didn’t want to press her further. She needs an ally, and I would rather be there for her and the children than drive her away again. I will handle Esme and the kids, and you can handle whatever danger they are in.”  
Tommy nodded and stood thinking. Polly could read the subtle changes in his face that were imperceptible to others, and she saw both relief and uncertainty there.  
She put down her tea and shifted in her chair, “Why don’t you go up and check on them. She was adamant about wanting to tell you the details of the threat that they are under.”  
Tommy nodded, crushed his cigarette into the ashtray on the table, and ascended the narrow stairs. 

As he approached the door of the room that Esme and John once occupied, he noticed that the door had been left open slightly- just a crack. Just enough for him to see her on the bed with her youngest children. Their faces were placid, calm. Tommy considered that this was probably the first peaceful sleep Esme had experienced in an age. She could relax here, in the Shelby house, knowing that a fortress stood between her children and any harm that wished to visit them.  
Esme’s lashes fanned over her pale cheeks, and Tommy, like Polly, was shocked to see how fragile the once fiery girl had become. He was disarmed by her untroubled expression and the way her children softly clung to her.  
Thomas stood for a long while, taking in the scene before him. He watched with a melancholy feeling which he didn’t quite understand. She was not to be trusted. Esme had cursed him and swore that he would never again see John’s children; yet, here she was. And here was he, finding it hard to hate her for it.  
He turned to leave, and a floorboard loudly creaked. One of the babies began to squirm and fuss, and Esme drew him closer, sleepily patting his back until he settled. Tommy stood silently until the two of them became still again. He then crept away, mentally calculating the emotional cost of the return of John’s widow.


	2. Tommy's Office

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tommy and Esme come to an understanding.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slow burn, Tommy x Esme, grief, guilt, lust, drugs…What’s not to love?

Thomas walked into his office and poured himself a whiskey. He drank it down in one go and poured himself another before settling behind his desk. He had come to clear up paperwork- details about his American export business, but he found his mind wandering back to the situation with Esme. He had expected her back one day, but not nearly this soon, and certainly not under these circumstances.  
Tommy eyed the files on his desk. Business was good in America. Alfonse Capone was a shrewd man, but Tommy had struck a lucrative deal with him. With America in the midst of prohibition, Shelby Gin was a godsend. The product was good, and the Italians in America were happy with the arrangement. Tommy was studying an invoice from their recent New York deliveries, but he could not concentrate on business with her in the house.  
Tommy still believed in curses and spirits, and Esme was born to it. It ran through her veins and radiated from her very being. As much as he tried to suppress the superstitious teachings of his childhood, he could not deny the shiver he felt when he looked in her eyes that day. The day she cursed him. He didn’t know how to square that with the way she made him feel earlier that afternoon when he saw her. He found himself staring into space and thinking about the way she looked as she slept. He needed to know more about why she came back. I’ll just go and wake her up, he thought.  
Just then, she slipped into the room like a fog. He could feel her presence, like static electricity, before he saw her. He could even smell her in the air- smoke, sandalwood, and a sweetness he had no reference for. Her footsteps, padding their way across the office broke his reverie.  
“Thomas,” her voice was like velvet, “we need to talk.”  
He turned his face in her direction and locked eyes with her. It was as if he had summoned her with this thoughts. “Esme, come in, sit down.” He had not expected her, and he was caught a bit off guard. “Would you like a drink?” He kept his voice even, nonchalant. She made him feel oddly unsettled, but it did not show in his voice or actions.  
She ignored his question and got straight to the point. “John’s children need your protection.”  
“From whom?”  
Esme let out a long sigh. “The Wood family.”  
“I thought the Woods were aligned with the Lees. Why would they seek to harm your children?”  
“John’s children,” Esme stressed. The Shelby name held certain connotations, and Esme was certain that was the sole reason they had been targeted.  
“Okay, John’s children.”  
“As you well know, the Lees and the Woods joined together to fight the Gardettos. At first, it seemed an amicable union, but something’s changed. I know it. When Felix Wood found out about me- a Shelby widow, with John’s children- His whole demeanor changed. I could see him plotting. They are not to be trusted, Thomas. I can feel it.”  
Thomas scoffed, “So we are supposed to let bygones be bygones and prepare to go against the Woods because you have a feeling.”  
“No, it’s more than that. Jonny Dogs sees it too.”  
“Then why are they honoring the alliance? You are a Lee by blood. If they threaten you, all bets are off, right?”  
Tommy’s assessment of the situation touched a nerve with Esme. She had thought the very same thing as she sat across from her grandmother. Why were she and her children not worth breaking this alliance? Sure, it was not ideal from a strategic standpoint, but Esme was Lee blood, and it hurt her to the core that her very own family had told her to seek refuge with the Shelbys. She was not in a good position, but would be damned if she let Tommy see her on the back foot. She had to convince him that she understood and agreed with her family’s position.  
“They are looking for a way out, but they are in too deep. There’s too much at stake. If they abandon the truce with the Woods, all will be lost. Madame Lee told me to come here, and appeal to you to keep my family safe.” Esme dropped her gaze to the cigarette smoldering in the ashtray, “Trust me, Thomas, the irony is not lost on me. I wouldn’t be here, were it only myself under threat, but for my children I will make any sacrifice.”  
“So, it’s a sacrifice coming to me?” Tommy’s mouth twisted into a smirk.  
Her black eyes flashed at him like summer lightening, “I meant what I said that day in the morgue. You and your damned pride took my love, my life, the protector of my children and myself. I will never forgive you or forget that, Thomas. But, I also know your power, and we will be safe here. For now.”  
In his heart he knew that she was right. Protection- he owed them that much.  
“Stay. I will call and have Mary make up some rooms for you.”  
Esme felt a quiet rage burning in her gut at the mention of his house. After all, it was in his house that the ultimate betrayal of Polly, Michael, Arthur, and John was committed on the day that they were all hauled away to jail under Tommy’s icy rule. “I’ll not be a prisoner in your country house. We will stay right here in Small Heath, where there are Blinder men on every corner. This is the safest place for us.”  
“Very well. If you insist on being here, then I will make arrangements. I’ve been meaning to renew my interest in this part of my business holdings. This is as good an opportunity as any to spend more time here.” Thomas cleared his throat and finished his whiskey. “Anything else?”  
Her mind still fixed on that horrible day, she responded, “Remember, I haven’t forgiven you.” Her voice cracked, but she kept her gaze steady.  
Thomas absorbed her statement with a blank stare, but Esme saw a flicker of guilt in his eyes. She, like Polly, could always read what was hiding below the surface with Thomas. Damn him. The flash of regret she saw hiding in his stare softened her tone, “I’m here to keep John’s children safe. Their Shelby name makes them a target, so that same name must keep them from harm.” Having made her position known, Esme turned to leave.  
With not a little surprise, Tommy realized he didn’t want her to go. “Esme,” she stopped and Tommy walked around his desk to where she stood, facing towards the door. She would not turn back around to look at him. He touched her arm and softly promised, “I will keep you safe.”  
Maybe it was the guilt he felt for his part in John’s death, or maybe it was something else, but it was a promise that he intended to keep.


	3. Esme Falls Apart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Within the safety of the Shelby house, Esme has a breakdown and Tommy fights his feelings. No one can stay strong forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slow burn, Tommy x Esme, grief, guilt, lust, drugs…What’s not to love?

As the days passed, Tommy and Polly grew accustomed to having John and Esme’s brood underfoot. The young’uns spent most of their time cooped up in the house. Occasional forays into the street were allowed, but only when there were snipers on the roof and Blinder men posted on both ends of the lane. Tommy had missed the bustle of the gambling den and was pleased to be back in the thick of it. Aunt Pol had regularly stayed in her old home. She’d never quite gotten used to the suburbs, and with Michael gone to America she found the cold rambling house too much to take. Besides, she felt her place was with John’s children, at Watery Lane.  
Esme, however, was another story. Now that her children’s safety was guaranteed, she was able to fall apart. Having time with her thoughts, she replayed the awful events of Christmas morning over and over in her mind. Her John, her strong, beautiful John was violently ripped from this world before her very eyes. She succumbed to her grief in the worst way. Some days the kids ran wild while she lay in bed- the bed she once shared with their father- and wept herself numb. Eventually weeping herself numb turned to drinking herself numb. Sometimes, when drinking wasn’t enough, she smoked herself numb.  
A few weeks into this behavior, Polly told Tommy that Esme had been in her room for two days straight, and had refused to eat anything. “You need to speak to her and make peace with her. Find something for her to do! These kids need their mum.”  
Tommy clenched his jaw and breathed a deep sigh. “Can’t you sort it, Pol? I’m meeting with distributors today. I’ve a business to run.” He had no desire to get caught up in Esme’s brooding and tantrums. He had managed to steer clear of her so far, and he had planned to keep it that way. She was safe, and he needed a clear head to run his business. Esme clouded his thinking so much on the day of her return that Tommy had all but shunned her.  
Polly lit a cigarette and trained her eyes on Tommy. “Look, like it or not, you shoulder part of the responsibility for that poor girl’s predicament.” Her eyes began to well up with tears, “You go up there and make peace. It’s not me who needs to make amends to Esme, it’s you.”  
Tommy tapped on the door to Esme’s room. When no one answered he called out, “Esme, I need to speak to you.” He was met with only silence. He slowly opened the door. “I only want to talk to you…” he began, then he saw the reason why she didn’t answer.  
She lie white and motionless on the bed. Tommy raced to her, nearly tripping on an empty whiskey bottle. She was warm and breathing, thank God. When Tommy realized that she had only passed out, a flood or relief washed over him. He registered the sickly sweet smell of opium at about the same time that he saw the pipe beside her. Oh, Esme, not that. He felt heartsick. All at once he had an overwhelming rush of sympathy for her. He remembered the pain of losing Grace, how he had turned to morphine to dull the ache of loss. He remembered that feeling of pain that even little Charlie couldn’t lessen, and he truly understood the hell that she was going through.  
He reached out his hand, hesitating before he brushed her hair back from her forehead. He felt an urge to kiss her there, but resisted. He instead took her hand, gently smacking it, and in a husky whisper said, “Esme, wake up. It’s time to get up.”  
Semi-consciously she moaned. Her clammy hand struggled to grasp Tommy’s. She slipped in and out of her haze, recognizing the faint smell of cigarettes and whiskey. She could vaguely make out the outline of his grey suit, and in her addled state she pulled Tommy’s hand to her lips. “John,” she whispered, and Tommy’s blood froze. She blindly reached for him; her hand landed on his chest and slid down his body. Her glassy eyes searching for focus, “John?”  
Tommy’s hand moved from her lips to caress her cheek. “Esme, I’m here,” he managed to whisper, his voice too wracked with emotion to speak. “Go to sleep now, Love.”  
Esme smiled and her eyes mercifully closed. Her breathing became steady, and Tommy slipped his hand out of her grasp.  
For a long while he sat on the edge of the bed, just trying to process what had just happened. Tears began to fall as he was overwhelmed with the remembrance of the loss of his brother and sympathy for Esme. She was broken and he bore part of the blame. She never asked for this life. A wild And unbridled girl, she hated to be cooped up. She would beg John to leave; take her and the kids and go out on the road.  
His mind spun as he recalled the day that she had the nerve to approach the subject with him. She whispered to him about getting lost in France, about going down to Saintes-Marie where the Black Madonna is found. They were all alone in the betting shop, and he couldn’t take his eyes off her mouth. Her words weaving a spell about how free they all could be on the road. He felt himself being drawn to her, not just her plan, but her soul, her red lips, and her black eyes. They still let you get lost there, she whispered to him. His face betrayed nothing, but he had to struggle to keep control of his mind. He remembered the shame he felt for wanting her, right then and there, on the table where bets are laid.  
Instead, what Esme got in reply was a cruel manifestation of Tommy’s frustration: a cold stare, a rough hand gripping her face, and a threat, “If you ever talk about getting lost again I will cut you. From this family.” He gave her jaws a painful squeeze before he let her go. Esme didn’t shrink from his gaze or his violent threat. Her dark brown eyes grew deeper, her pupils grew wider, and she deliberately kept her face close to his as she glanced left, then right, and defiantly purred, “What family?” With those two words, all the air left the room. She lit something inside of him, that day, and he had to work to keep at bay. What he could have no way of knowing is that she too felt something. When she whispered her plans to him, being in such close proximity to him affected her in ways she never thought possible. When he gripped her face, she felt the heat of the moment melt right down to the core of her being.  
After that day, he made it a point to keep his distance from her, to avoid her, and to make his distaste for her ideas a matter of course. He thought that his shameful feelings for her were long buried in the past, but seeing her so vulnerable, so broken and so needy had left him burning.  
He turned to look at Esme’s sleeping face, pale and serene. Her full pink lips were slightly parted. His eyes drifted down her creamy neck to see that the front of her dress was opened to expose the tops of her breasts. He watched as they rose and fell with each breath she took, and he was tortured with a longing that he had no right to have. He bit his bottom lip and closed his eyes, as if that would block out the sight before him, but it was seared onto his brain. He could smell her skin, smoke and sandalwood. A scent that would linger in rooms long after she’d gone. He could feel himself getting hard, and his face burned with the shame of it. His heart pounded, and he had to get out of there. He willed himself to the door, out into the hall, down the stairs, and out into the street.  
He could hear Polly calling, “Did you talk to her?” as the cool evening air filled his chest but did little to assuage the fire inside of him.


	4. Gone On Whiskey and Smoke

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tommy tries to drink away his emotions and ends up in Esme's room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slow burn, Tommy x Esme, grief, guilt, lust, drugs…What’s not to love?

Tommy got drunk. To deal with the rush of emotions he experienced in Esme’s room he went to the Garrison and got well and truly drunk. He came in at midnight and headed straight for his room, the bottle that was on his bedside table, and hopefully a few hours of oblivion. The path to all these things would lead him straight past Esme’s door. He could hear quiet sobbing from inside her room and was compelled to stop and listen. He struggled with his desire to go to her but thought better of it. He had just resumed walking toward his room when he heard her speak his name.  
“Thomas…” then in a hoarse voice “Tommy, are you there?”  
He had drowned his emotions in Irish whiskey and so had the courage to answer, “Yes. Esme, it’s been a long day and I’m going to bed.”  
“Thomas, please?” Her voice was small and broken, and he felt the pull of sympathy and responsibility drawing him back to her room.  
He opened the door and found her sitting on the bed in her gown. She had her knees pulled up to her chest and her arms wrapped around them. Her dark eyes seemed enormous in the shadows of the night. Tears were shining on her cheeks.  
“What’s the matter?” He deadpanned, carefully modulating his voice.  
“Pol said she sent you in here to speak to me earlier.”   
“Yes.”  
“Were you in here?”  
“Yes.”  
“What did you see, Thomas?”  
Tommy closed his eyes and rolled his head back, face towards the ceiling. He took a deep breath, and exhaled, “I saw a very sad, very drunk girl. Lost in grief and smoke.”  
Esme looked down at her knees and whispered, “I thought he was here.”  
Thomas opened his mouth to speak, but no sound came out.  
With eyes downcast, she continued, “My John, I thought he was here,” she brought her hand up to caress her lips and the side of her face, “and here,” she rubbed one hand over the other. She drew a shaky breath and turned her eyes to Tommy, “It was not my John, was it?”   
He sat in front of her on the bed, “No.”  
She gripped her knees more tightly to her chest, dropped her head down, and began to cry harder. “Why does he not come to see me? In my dreams, why does he not come? He should be with me in my dreams.” Sensing Tommy was closer, she lifted her head and was surprised to see tears in his ice blue eyes.   
He reached out to smooth the hair back from her face and softly touched her cheek with the backs of his fingers, and tried to explain, “Esme, you were gone on whiskey and smoke. You thought I was him, and I didn’t have the heart to tell you otherwise. It helped you to be calm. It helped you to drift off to sleep.”   
The pain in her eyes softened a bit and she sighed, “It hurts so bad, Thomas. I’m mad with the pain.”  
Before he knew what he was doing, his arms were around her. He wanted to save her from the pain that was tearing her apart, body and soul, and she melted in his embrace. The arms which had held her knees slipped around Tommy’s waist as she slowly uncoiled her legs and nuzzled her head into his chest. He traced lazy circles onto her back with one hand, while the other ran fingers through her hair. He murmured soothing words into the top of her head and she soaked them in. She clung to him for a long while, content in his warm embrace, listening to his sweet words. She felt safe, and her nerves were quiet, for the first time in a long while.   
She turned her face up to his, to look into his eyes, to thank him for pulling her back from the brink. She found his eyes half lidded and full of want. An incandescent heat filled her body and she felt his lips brush hers. Tommy took his time. He drew back, licked his bottom lip and then captured hers in a slow deep motion. Esme felt suspended in time, and all the thoughts that were spinning in her mind ceased to exist. She parted her lips and Tommy slipped his tongue inside her mouth.   
Hands that were gently tracing circles onto her back were suddenly grasping with need. She felt her nipples harden and she pressed herself deeper into Tommy’s embrace. His mouth rained kisses down her cheek and her neck, sucking and licking her collarbone. His hands came to rest on her hips and started to bunch her gown up, inching it higher and higher until her thighs were exposed to him. Esme surrendered as he spread her legs and maneuvered her onto his lap, her head lolling back as he licked and sucked a trail down to her breasts. Her nipples strained against the thin white cotton gown she wore, and his breath came hot and fast as he sucked them through the fabric. She felt a throbbing wetness between her legs as she ground herself against his length, making the front of his trousers damp. Her mouth found his again and she bit his bottom lip, then kissing him deeply, her mouth hot and fierce upon his. As she did this, her conscience came flooding back with a vengeance.  
“Thomas, oh my God, Thomas! We can’t do this.” She drew back, panic beginning to set in.  
He froze. Eyes searching hers. Instantly sober. “Oh, God. Esme. I’m sorry, shhhh, shhhhh, it’s going to be OK,” he tried to comfort her as best he could.  
They became still, both of them panting, both casting about for the right words, but there were none. They held each other until sleep began to overtake them and finally Esme spoke. “You should go sleep in your own bed.”  
“Esme, I...”  
“Me too.”  
Tommy crept down the hall, and Esme lapsed into a fitful sleep.


	5. Charlie's Yard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Esme is restless and bothered after her visit from Tommy. She reminisces about a night long ago when she had an accidental meeting with Tommy at Charlie's Yard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slow burn, Tommy x Esme, grief, guilt, lust, drugs…What’s not to love?

Drifting in and out of sleep, Esme could not seem to find the rest that she needed. She was all out of smoke, and wouldn’t dare ask Tommy if he had any, even though she knew that he would sometimes use it to help him quiet his mind when nothing else would.  
She got out of bed and tiptoed to the window. Drawing the lace curtain aside and looking down on watery lane, she recalled that this was not the first time that Thomas Shelby left her flushed, confused, and restless.  
Her thoughts wandered back to an accidental late night meeting in Charlie’s yard. John had come home drunk, loud, and smelling of whores one too many times. Esme had practically thrown the baby into his arms and then stalked out the door, leaving him with a houseful of newly woken, bawling children. “Fuck you, Esme!” John slurred at her back as she walked away.   
“It’ll be cold day in hell before you get the pleasure again,” she roared through gritted teeth as she stormed down the lane. Their relationship had always been odd. Fixed. Arranged. But, the spark of passion was there from the first night, for both of them, and it always hurt her when he strayed. They viciously fought, but making-up was always sweet. She knew that tomorrow morning he would pick a bouquet of wildflowers, bring her tea in bed, and put his head in her lap. He’d be all baleful looks and tears, begging for her forgiveness. As always, she would forgive him.  
Tonight, however, Esme was full of devilment. She half considered going into the Garrison to even the score. There was no doubt she could find someone with which to spend the night. She was not a conventional beauty, but she was sexy. A riot of wild black hair tumbled over her shoulders and down her back, her black eyes flashed under their sweeping lashes, and the curves of her body had only become more supple and pronounced in motherhood. She was everything a man could want in his bed, but she didn’t want any man’s bed. As easy as it would have been to make John pay for his indiscretions by knowing that she had fucked another man, she could never go through with it. Her heart wouldn’t let her, and it would be as good as a death warrant for the poor man whom she bedded.   
The night air was crisp and felt good in her lungs, cooling her down and helping her to gain control of her emotions. She boldly decided to walk as far as Charlie’s yard. One of her favorite mares had delivered a foal, and she had yet to see it. The horses always helped her to see sense. She’d always said that she’d been born riding, and that wasn’t far from the truth. Growing up on the road, horses were a part of her everyday life before she could crawl. Their gentle majesty grounded her, and in the crazy world of Small Heath Esme needed to visit them often. The risk of walking through the dark streets was well worth it to her if she ended up at the stables.  
As she approached the stables, she noticed a faint light and thought that maybe Curly had come down to check on the new foal. She called out, “Curly, it’s just me, Esme. I’ve come to see the black mare and her…” Before she could finish, the door swung open and Tommy, wild eyed, stood in the doorway. “Come on in, Esme. Don’t let me stop you.”  
“I…I didn’t know you were here, Thomas.”  
“Does it matter?”  
“No…” it sounded like a question coming out of her mouth, but she could see that something was definitely very wrong with Tommy and she didn’t know quite how to approach him. Tommy wasn’t wearing his usual jacket. His sleeves were rolled up to the elbow, and his shirt was soaked with sweat   
Esme carefully ventured a question, “Where’s the foal?”  
“Dead. He didn’t make it.” Peering from the shadows, he never broke eye contact as he spoke to her, and it made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. As he spoke, the familiar scent of whiskey reached Esme’s nose.  
“I’m sorry Thomas.” Esme spoke softly, carefully, almost as if she was speaking to a horse that could easily spook.  
“No need for that. It’s all part of it, eh?” he lied.   
But she knew better. Thomas Shelby never lost his cool. He could stare down the barrel of a gun without flinching, but the death of the foal had shaken him. He loved horses more than he could love most people. That was something that he and Esme had in common. He stepped into the light and she noticed that his eyes, which had finally shifted away hers, were red and wet.   
“Couldn’t wait until morning to see an ‘orse? Don’t you think the streets of Small Heath are a bit more hospitable in the light of day?” As he spoke he handed Esme a nearly empty bottle of whiskey.  
Taking the bottle, Esme snarled, “Your pig of a brother came home drunk and smelling of whores. It was either leave the house or gut him with a kitchen knife.” She drained the remaining contents of the bottle and handed it back to Tommy.  
Tommy barely suppressed a low chuckle.  
“It’s not funny, Thomas.”  
“You’re right, my girl. It’s not. He should treat you with a bit more respect. At least wash up and put on a fresh shirt before he crawls home.”   
“Fuck you, Thomas.”  
“Oh, come on, Esme. I’m only pointing out the absurdity of the situation. Why on earth would he need to fuck whores when he has you at home? I would never do that to you.”  
Esme felt a warmth run down her spine at his words, for they were spoken softly and sincerely. When Tommy raised his icy blue gaze back to hers, she could feel her cheeks flush and her stomach draw into a knot.  
“Thank you, Thomas.” She whispered.  
The corners of his lips raised a little, almost into a smile, but not quite.   
His words implied an affection for her that she never knew had existed, and her mind slid sideways. Thomas actually cared about her. The king of Small Heath, with his razor crown, had a beating heart after all. They stood in thick silence for what seemed like hours. Their eyes locked on to each other until it felt, surreally, like they were drawing closer.  
“Right then. Let’s get you home. I don’t want you wandering the streets of Small Heath at this hour. A bit unseemly, don’t you think?” Tommy spoke, and the spell was broken.  
Tommy led her to a stall which held a white stallion. “How ‘bout I take you home on ‘im?”  
Esme lit up as the horse nuzzled her hand. “He’s beautiful, Tom. Where’d you get him?”  
“Won ‘im off Johnny Dogs. One day that Gypsy bastard will learn not to bet against me.”  
Esme laughed, in spite of herself. She knew that Tommy’s Grandfather was a Gypsy King, and he meant no harm against her kin.  
The night was getting colder by the minute, and Esme was grateful for the warmth that the whiskey had provided. Tommy pulled his coat on, and grabbed an extra one that he kept at the stables.   
“Here, put this on. It’s gotten colder since you came in.”   
Esme gratefully bundled up in Tommy’s coat. It smelled like Tommy’s sweat, whiskey, horses, and smoke- a smell not very unlike John’s.  
Outside on the gravel Tommy helped her mount. She hitched her dress up and swung her leg over, a little embarrassed at the view that Tommy would have. She was more embarrassed when she saw the red state of his ears as he mounted behind her. Tommy clicked his tongue and the horse began to lope down the lane. Riding through the streets bareback, Esme had to grip the horse with her thighs. Simultaneously, she could feel the warmth of Tommy’s body at her back and his slow steady breath on her ear.   
She had never been this close to him before. Tommy had always kept a carefully guarded distance from her. Where Arthur’s demeanor always had the rough affection of a brother, with his bear hugs and mussing up her hair, Tommy always kept a formal tone. Now, she was sat between his thighs, and rocking movement of the horse did little to quiet the stirring she felt between hers.   
As they rode past the BSA, flames from the forge spooked the stallion, and he reared up on his back legs. Tommy gripped Esme tightly to him, leaving no room between them. She could feel his heart racing against her back, and she soon realized that he had his chin on her shoulder and his cheek pressed to her’s. His hand was just under her breasts, strong and insistent. He pulled the reins and spoke in rich, low tones to the animal, shushing and reassuring him. Even with all the whiskey Tommy had consumed, he kept a clear head when it came to horses, and he soon had the stallion calmed down. Esme caught her breath and relaxed against Tommy’s chest. It took a second too long for him to loosen his grip on her waist and for his chin to leave her shoulder, but Esme didn’t mind.  
They soon were at the door to the house she shared with John, who burst out into the street the second that they rode up.   
Tommy dismounted first. “I have brought your wife home, Brother. I need a word with you.”  
They walked a few feet away and Tommy bent down, his mouth close to John’s ear. He murmured something that made John’s head snap up. John glared at Tommy defiantly. Tommy put his hand on the back of John’s neck and pulled him closer again. He hissed something into John’s ear and John nodded his resignation to whatever Tommy had said.  
Tommy returned to help Esme down, and once she was on the ground he faced her. “I don’t think you’ll have any trouble out of him for a while.”  
“I don’t need you to fight my battles, Thomas Shelby.” Esme snapped, immediately regretting her harsh tone. “But, thank you. For everything,” she said with a much softer voice.  
Once inside the house, John started babbling a stream of apologies. Esme held her hand up to him, and said, “Just leave it, John. I’ll be up in a bit.”  
John went up the stairs, and Esme fixed herself a glass of whiskey. She swirled the amber liquid and smiled. It smelled like Thomas. Tomorrow, she would be John’s faithful and loving wife, but tonight, in John’s bed, she’d close her eyes and imagine herself getting up to a little devilment.


	6. Guilt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It is the morning after Tommy and Esme's near miss, and they are forced to keep up apperances. Aunt Polly has a solution for Esme's blues.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slow burn, Tommy x Esme, grief, guilt, lust, drugs…What’s not to love?

The next morning was not kind to Tommy. The previous night’s whiskey and lack of sleep were punishing him for his sins. But on his knees in the silence of his room, he couldn’t pray to God to take away the curse of wanting her. He couldn’t swear on a bible that he wouldn’t touch her again. Not when every glimpse of her, every scent of her in the air, every whisper of her soft voice floating along the hall tortured his mind. Surely there was no fault in two broken people looking for comfort in each other, he reasoned. If only life were that simple. All he could do was stay close and protect her and her children. John’s children. John’s widow. Guilt was a rare feeling for Thomas Shelby, and he was not coping well.  
He thought of working in London for a few days, but he couldn’t risk leaving while the threat from the Wood family still lingered. It would be wrong for him to run away and leave Esme alone to cope with the aftermath of their actions. Besides, he was inexorably drawn to her. Even though he was fighting against his desire for her, he couldn’t just leave her. Tommy resigned himself to stay, day after day, night after night, pretending that her presence was not a constant torment.  
Esme fared no better. The guilt of what she and Thomas had nearly done made her head pound. As she made her bed and set her room to rights, she could smell him in the sheets. Or was it John? After all, this was his room. Even though he was gone, she still felt his presence at times. With a shiver, she wondered if John knew what had transpired between Tommy and her. She told herself that she was weak with grief, and that was the only reason she had succumbed to Tommy’s soothing touch. His voice made her believe that everything was going to be alright, and his strong arms made her feel safe and cared for. Surely she deserved to feel safe and cared for, but the rest of it…she couldn’t think about that now.  
She had washed her face and began to dress when the drumming of little feet came pattering down the hall. Two of her children came tumbling into the room with her eldest close behind them. Esme smiled and swept them, giggling and squirming, into her arms. This…this would have to be her focus if she wanted to survive.  
“Mum, you look like you feel better,” her oldest daughter said.   
“I do, love,” Esme replied. She could see John in their faces, and it took her breath away. Blinking back tears she diverted their attention, “Let’s go see what Aunt Polly has made for breakfast.”  
Down in the kitchen, Tommy and Esme sat at the breakfast table attempting small talk. They pretended that everything was normal, and stealing glances whenever Polly’s back was turned. While helping one of the kids scoot up to the table, their hands brushed and the crackle of electricity was palpable. When they both reached for the teapot at the same time, his apology tumbled over hers. Polly sensed an oddness in the way they were acting, but just chalked it up to the overly polite behavior of feuding in-laws who had just buried the hatchet.   
Polly smiled and lit a cigarette, “Maybe now that you have kissed and made-up, you could have Esme help you in your office.”  
Polly’s choice of words made Tommy choke on his tea. Esme just stared wide eyed into the bowl of porridge that she was spooning into the baby’s mouth.  
“I think that can be arranged,” Tommy answered.  
“Good, then it’s settled. Esme, dear, don’t look so worried. I know a girl who can come ‘round today to mind the children, and it will do you well to stay busy.”  
Esme swallowed hard, “Yes, I suppose you are right.”  
Tommy caught Esme in the upstairs hall before they went to the office. She was annoyed that he had agreed to Polly’s plan, considering the events of the night before.   
“What are you fucking playing at, Thomas?”  
“I wasn’t expecting her to suggest that you work at my office. I thought it best to go along with her because it would appear more suspicious if I had refused.”  
“Well don’t get the idea that you’ll have me bent over your desk like Lizzie,” she spat back at him.  
Tommy rubbed his eyes and sighed in exasperation, “I don’t think of you in that way.”  
“What way did you think of me last night?”   
“The same way you thought of me.”  
Esme raised her hand to slap him, and he caught her wrist. He pulled her into his room and she struggled against his grip. He grabbed her other hand as it came up toward his head, then he pulled her close enough to feel his breath on her face. He gruffly whispered, “I know that you are lashing out at me because you feel guilty, and I feel guilty too. But what happened last night, whatever you may think, was honest. Yes, it is unfortunate that you are my brother’s widow, but it was genuine. At least for me.”  
Esme was breathing heavily and twisting her arms, trying to get out of his grip, “How can any of this be honest when my John is less than a year dead?”  
“I don’t know.” With that simple admission, Tommy wrapped her in a tight embrace until she stopped fighting him. When he felt her relax against his chest, he tenderly kissed her on her forehead. “I don’t know how we are going to deal with this arrangement, but we will figure it out. If you want me to stay away from you, I will come up with an excuse as to why you can’t work with me in the shop. But the more I think about it, the less fault I can find with two people trying to take away each other’s pain.  
He held her until her breathing slowed and then let her go. “I will be in your office in an hour.” She turned on her heel and went to her room to get ready for work.


	7. The Betting Shop

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Esme begins working at the betting shop and remembers John's presence there. Polly plans a girls night at the Garrison. Esme comes across a file that sparks her jealous nature, and Tommy braces for impact.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slow burn, Tommy x Esme, grief, guilt, lust, drugs…What’s not to love?

With the Wood family still at large, Tommy didn’t want her to work out front in plain view of everyone who entered, so Esme sat at a desk just outside his office door. His blinds were open, and she could see him working at his massive carved desk: head down, cigarette smoldering, glass of whiskey at hand.  
When she first arrived, he had come out to meet her and show her to her where she would spend her days. Tommy fussed around with the pens, ink, blotter, and various other items on the desk, repeating himself as he held each item up and named it. “Eh, you have pens (he held up pens), ink (he held up ink), do you have enough pens and ink?”  
“Yes, Thomas. Do you have any idea what I will be doing with all these writing instruments?” Esme cocked her eyebrow and smirked at him.  
“No.” He managed to keep a straight face, but there was a smile in his voice. He continued, “Polly will come in to help you get acquainted with the accounts. Some things have changed since you have been gone, and she knows more about this end of the business than I.” They stood in silence for a minute, listening to the familiar sounds of the shop, and then he touched her hand and spoke, “You belong here, yeah. You are part of Shelby Company Limited. I want you to know the business, the accounts, and the money, all of it. I feel like John would want it that way.”  
Esme stiffened and drew her arm back at the mention of what John would have wanted. “He’s not here, is he? So we don’t know if this is what he would have wanted.”  
Tommy wanted to keep the peace, and he especially wanted Esme to trust him and continue to confide in him. He turned his light blue eyes on her, then looked down with a sweep of his long black lashes, and spoke gently, “I meant no offense. Forgive me for being presumptuous. The brother I knew appreciated your sharp mind, and I imagine that this would please him. You may see things differently, and I respect that.” He swept his gaze back up to meet hers and to his relief her features had softened. “I’ll leave you to it then,” Tommy said, and he strolled back into his office.  
She had been waiting for Polly for twenty minutes, aimlessly busying herself rearranging the items on her desk just as Tommy had done, and she was bored. The office was not very busy yet, so Esme got up to make a cup of tea. On her way to the kitchen she crossed the bull pen and caught sight of the board where John used to chalk up the odds. Another man was there, book in hand, tweed suit and Blinder cap on his head. Esme watched him work for a moment before she became lightheaded and realized that she’d been holding her breath. The young man turned to her and nodded hello before resuming his work. Esme didn’t recognize him. A lot of things had changed.  
Polly came in while Esme made tea and joined her for a cup. Esme’s hands shook as she sipped at her tea, and Polly took Esme’s hands in her own. “I know that everything is hard now. Waking, caring for the children, noticing little things that remind you of John, all of it is hard. But you are harder.” She squeezed Esme’s hands and continued, “When my husband was killed, I did not know how I would ever cope. Anna and Michael were small, and they needed me to be a mum. I was crazed with grief, and could barely keep our heads above water. If it weren’t for my sister-in-law, John’s mum, I don’t know that I could have survived. I see you struggling, dear. Let Aunt Polly help.” Polly felt a strong kinship with Esme that went beyond their shared Romani roots. Polly had reservations about Esme when she and John first married, but the girl’s spirit and grit won her over. She was never afraid of Tommy, and she was a true and loving wife to John. Not many girls raised rough on the road would have taken to an arranged marriage and settled life like Esme had done.  
Esme finished her tea and stood up, clearing the table and pacing the kitchen while Polly’s eyes followed her. “Everything here reminds me of our life together. On the road, I grieved, but in a different way. In the open, my sadness had someplace to go. It flew away. But here? Here it just slams against the walls and thunders around my head. The chalkboard in the betting shop had me in tears just now. His desk, it just stands there in the corner of the room. I’ll bet that his toothpicks are still in the right hand corner of his desk drawer.” Esme wrapped her arms around herself and took a deep breath, “I know that I must be strong, and that it is best if I stay busy, but you are right to say that it is hard.”  
Polly stood and took Esme into her arms. “Remember, my girl, it’s hard, but you are harder.” Drawing back and holding Esme at arm’s length, Polly squinted and spoke in a conspiratory tone, “What’s say we knock off early and go to the Garrison. You don’t want to overdo it on your first day. Besides, Arthur and Linda are champing at the bit to have the kids out to their farm.”  
Esme couldn’t help but smile and squint back, “That sounds grand.”  
Later in the day, Esme had begun to get the hang of what she was to do with each account packet. She had shaken the mood that had gripped her earlier in the morning, and had even exchanged a few smiles with Tommy through the glass of his office windows. He had taken his suit jacket off, and was currently working in his shirtsleeves. Admiring the way his muscles rippled under his shirt, she found herself remembering the way his arms felt around her. He cradled her in those arms like she belonged there.  
Striving to maintain her focus, Esme grabbed the next account off of the pile, and saw a name that she recognized-May Carleton. Her heartbeat quickened and her eyes flicked up to take in the image of Tommy, working without his jacket in the heat of the day, licking his bottom lip as he pondered his next move. Her vision narrowed and she began to replay the memory of May coming to the betting shop to see Tommy. An angry monologue played inside her head, She called it a “gambling den” and surveyed the rooms with a cool detachment. She looked at us like we bugs under glass, meant to be studied. The posh widow horse trainer whom Tommy would pursue, woo, and sleep with at her estate. She felt an anger rise in her chest, displacing the warm feelings that had begun to gather there. How could I be so stupid? Grace, May, Lizzie, Jessie Eden, and the various prostitutes who came and went. Why would I be any different to him?  
She had been glaring through the glass at Tommy for a few minutes, picturing him in different positions with different women and hating him. Curses, distrust, and regret washed over her. The jealousy which May’s name had triggered was the cherry on top.  
Tommy felt her eyes on him, and unlike the warm glances they had exchanged earlier in the day, her eyes had taken on a murderous glare. He sat up straight and motioned for her to come in to his office. Esme continued to sit and glare at him until he got up and came to the door. He opened it a crack and called out, “Esme, I need to see you in my office.” Esme snatched up the Carleton file and stalked into his office slamming the door behind her.  
“Would you mind telling me what is wrong with you?”  
“Nothing is wrong with ME, Thomas. I see that May Carleton is still training your horses.” She said it with the tone of voice that one uses to emphasize that they are using a euphemism. “Well is there anyone else on the payroll for training your ‘orses?” As she said this she slung the Carleton file across his desk. It skidded to a stop against his glass of whiskey, sloshing a few drops onto the papers. Esme wanted a drink, or something stronger, in the worst way.  
“She trains a racehorse of mine. She wins races. Why does this concern you?”  
“How dare you touch me when you are still rutting upon everything in Birmingham that will hold still for you.”  
“What’s this?”  
“You know damn well what I am talking about! Lizzie, May, that mad Russian, all the whores you have smuggled into the Midland hotel! Will I find a bill from the maître d’ for procuring ‘orse trainers?”  
Tommy frowned and walked to the window of his office. He snapped the blinds shut and locked the door. “May and I are not fucking. She trains my horse. That is all.”  
Esme stood, fists balled, scowling at Tommy. She looked as if she could fly at him at any moment, but he continued, “I am not fucking anyone currently, that all stopped,” he took a deep breath, “That all stopped when you came back.” He took a step forward and cleared his throat, “I am trying to be patient; I remember how angry I was and how muddled my thinking became when I lost Grace. I want to provide safety and financial security for you and the kids. I know…” Esme started to interrupt him, but he held up his hand to silence her, “I know that we have crossed some lines that exist in your head and in your heart, and that has complicated your feelings. But you need to know this- I will never hurt you.” He crossed the floor to where she stood, her hands were no longer balled into fists, but were reaching up to hold his face. Tommy leant down, his eyes half lidded and lips parted, but Esme held him a hare’s breadth from her face. Her black eyes less than an inch from his deep blue gaze she hissed, “You had better not.”


	8. The Garrison

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Polly takes Esme to The Garrison to blow off some steam and sends the kids to stay with Arthur and Linda. Tommy shows up to keep an eye on things, and Polly gets suspicious. Esme lets Tommy know what she wants.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slow burn, Tommy x Esme, grief, guilt, lust, drugs…What’s not to love?

Esme and Polly sat in the Garrison drinking pints. Aunt Pol, usually a whiskey drinker, had decided to keep things more tame than usual tonight. She had picked up on the lingering tension between Esme and Tommy, and she hoped that Esme would loosen up enough to talk about it. If something was troubling Esme, or if (God forbid) Tommy had a plan he had shared with her, Polly needed to know about it.  
Aside from that, it wouldn’t hurt the poor girl to get out and have a good time. Aunt Pol believed that Esme need to be reminded that she was a Shelby, and that she belonged. A night at the Garrison was just what she needed.  
Polly remembered that after she lost her husband to a canal accident, she felt like she couldn’t enjoy herself without disrespecting her husband’s memory. She herself felt like she had no call to smile for almost a year after her husband’s death, and she was afraid that Esme was going the same way. Esme listened as Polly explained, “I was angry at the sun for shining after my husband died. He was young, strong, handsome… a real river gypsy. After he passed, if I laughed about something silly that Anna or Michael had done, I felt such guilt. How could I feel joy, happiness, anything, when he was gone?” Polly looked into Esme’s eyes and emphasized her next words, “Esme, I had to decide if I was going to carry on living, or die with him. Do you understand my meaning? You have to get on with living. No one will think any less of you.”   
Esme watched the bubbles rise to the top of her glass of lager and pop as she took in every word. She wanted all of her reservations about Tommy to be unfounded. When he held her, she felt high. Better than high. For months she had craved nothing but oblivion, a numbness to stem the pain of losing John. Tommy made her want to feel again. All of her pain seemed to drain away when he looked at her with want in his eyes. She wanted to believe that Tommy could make her feel good again, but her residual anger for the way the Italian situation was handled and her mistrust of Tommy were hard to shake. Esme’s head swam with thinking of it.  
“What is going on in that head of yours?” Polly asked, after Esme sat quietly for a few minutes.   
“I’m thinking about Thomas.”   
Her answer surprised Polly, who assumed she was lost in thoughts of John. “What about Tommy?”  
“Well, as you know, we have not always cared for each other as family should,” Esme began. “I believe that the way he handled the Italians is to blame for John being taken from us, but with the Wood family closing in, I have had to put all of that to one side.”  
“You have done what any mother would do; you’ve made a truce in order to survive.” Polly knew all about truces with Tommy.  
“I had no choice. But, Polly, he has been kind, humble, and sympathetic to me since I came home, and it confuses me. I don’t know what to believe anymore. I want to let my guard down and let myself come back into the fold, but I keep waiting for him to show himself. You were there for the betrayals… you stood inside the noose. How do you take what he did to you and reconcile it with who he appears to be today?”  
Polly lit a cigarette and considered her question for a moment before answering. “Some days it is nearly impossible.” Polly exhaled a plume of smoke and it floated up to the ceiling in wisps. “It might be easier for me to do because I remember how he was when he was just a boy. When his mum died, the poor thing was adrift, and sometimes I still see the hurt hiding there behind his eyes.”  
Esme tried to picture Tommy as a lonely young boy, taking care of John and Ada as best he could, worrying about Finn. He had to grow up very quickly.  
“Esme, Tommy contradicts himself all too often, but I believe his heart is in the right place. It is true that he traded us, temporarily, because he had no choice. Now, he is in a position of power, high enough to make sure that we are untouchable. He is one of them now, and they won’t go after one of their own. Thomas will take care of us. He and Arthur will finish the Woods, and you will be able to have peace again.”  
As the night went on, Esme and Polly shared stories about growing up on the road and pints turned to shots. They shared a bond from traveling, and Polly was growing to see Esme with true affection. Polly noticed that Tommy had come in and was standing at the bar. She left Esme chatting with some neighbors and went to get the next round of drinks in. Tommy glowered at Polly as she approached the bar. “How long have you two been here?”   
“Long enough,” Polly smiled in defiance of his attitude as she answered him. “Two more, Harry!”  
Esme strolled up to the bar as Harry set up the shots. As she approached, she overheard Tommy tell Polly, “Don’t let Esme get too far gone, yeah?”  
Having passed the point of tipsy and strayed into the territory of drunk, Esme took umbrage at Tommy’s remark.   
She stared him down. “Oh, we know. You’re the only one allowed to do that.” She smiled at Polly in a conspiratorial way and sank one of the shots.  
Tommy set his jaw and lit a cigarette. “I’m only thinking about how you will feel later.”   
The comment went right past Polly’s radar, but Esme absorbed a deeper meaning. I saw a very sad, very drunk girl. Lost in grief and smoke. The memory of the night before echoed in her head. He held her steady in his gaze as she wordlessly reached over to the bar, grabbed the second shot, and drank it down. She licked the whiskey off of her top lip and handed Tommy the empty glass, “Oh, I believe I’ll manage. Pol, I’m going to the loo.” Esme drifted off in the direction of the ladies room leaving Polly and Tommy standing at the bar.  
“What the hell was that?” Polly eyed Tommy, “And don’t think you can lie to me because I know you better than you know yourself.”  
Tommy ran a hand over his face and turned away from Polly to compose his features. “Look, when I went to talk to Esme the other day, she had been drinking. She is not the easiest person to reason with under the best of circumstances, so you can imagine how it went trying to make peace with a soused Esme. Christ, Pol, she has spent the past year chanting curses on me.”  
Polly narrowed her eyes at him, “But you made peace?”  
“Yeah. But these are not normal circumstances. The Woods are out there, and I need Esme to keep her mind about her. I thought the whole point of getting her back to work was so that we could keep her reined in, keep her off the booze and the smoke…”  
“The smoke?” Polly rolled her eyes and snapped at Tommy, “Who said anything about smoke? Why the fuck didn’t you tell me?”  
“I didn’t want you to worry. She said it was just a little to help her sleep. She doesn’t have any more.” Tommy was becoming exasperated with the way their conversation was going. “When she comes back, Pol, you need to convince her that it’s time to go home. I think she’s had enough.”  
Polly stared straight ahead at the row of bottles behind the bar, but nodded her head in assent.  
Tommy finished his drink and put his hat on his head. “Good. I’ll get the car.”   
When they got home, Polly went upstairs to run a bath for Esme while Tommy stayed in the parlor with her.   
“How could you throw that in my face, Thomas?” Esme lurched around the room, scowling at him.  
“I only stated that I was concerned about your well-being.”  
“You knew exactly what you were implying.”   
“Esme, you are drunk and mistaken. Come sit down.”  
“I don’t wanna sit with the likes of you.”  
“Then sit over there, but sit down before you fall. I need to talk to you, and I need you to listen. Can you do that for me?”  
Esme slouched beside Tommy on the divan, despite what she had said. She folded her arms and turned to face him, blinking slowly and nodding her head.  
“Listen,” Tommy whispered, “Polly was asking questions tonight, questions about us.”  
Esme’s eyes grew wide and she gasped with a little squeak.   
“Shhhhh, I don’t want her to hear us. I smoothed things over for now, but I told her about the smoke.”  
“For fooks sake, Thomas!” Esme whispered loudly, bringing her face close to his and uncrossing her arms. She put a hand on his thigh as she leaned into him.  
“Polly sensed tension between us, so I gave her something to go on. She’ll think about that instead of figuring out…”  
“God, Thomas, she only just now decided she likes me. Now she thinks I’m some kind of dope fiend.”  
“No, she doesn’t. It’s alright. But, Esme,” Tommy twisted a tendril of her hair around his finger and continued on whispering softly to her, “I don’t want to hide forever. Fuck what anybody thinks.” He pulled her face to his, and tenderly brushed his lips across her cheek. “We better get you upstairs before Polly comes looking for you.”  
“Thomas,”  
“mmmmm,” he hummed into her neck,  
“Will you come see me tonight?”   
“If that is what you want.”  
“I want you.”


	9. Bath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Esme has a relaxing bath and a visitor. It's Tommy. Things get pretty hot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slow burn, Tommy x Esme, grief, guilt, lust, drugs…What’s not to love?

Tommy walked a few paces behind Esme as they went up the stairs. He delivered her to Polly, who was laying out a towel and a fresh nightgown.   
“You’ll feel so much better after a long soak and a good night’s sleep,” Polly said. Then she turned to Tommy who still lingered in the doorway staring into middle distance. “Do you need something, Tom?”  
“No, just making sure you have everything in hand.” His eyes settled on the copper tub that sat in front of the fire and followed the steam that drifted up into the faint lamplight. “Goodnight, Aunt Pol. Esme.” He was careful to have a nonchalant expression fixed on his face as he left, but Polly could sense that something about his demeanor was odd, and Esme was a bit flushed.   
Polly began to speak in a rapid fire, “What’s Thomas done now? I told him to behave himself and not to antagonize you. Jesus, you’ve a night off from the kids and instead of relaxation you’ve had to put up with Tommy’s meddling. I need to go home tonight and…” She paced the floor as she spoke, then abruptly stopped in front of Esme’s swaying form. “Shit. You are still drunk. Have you been smoking that…that dope?”  
Esme winced at the bluntness of Polly’s question.  
Polly started again, a bit more sympathetically, “Tommy told me that you had been using it to sleep. I know it’s a comfort to you, but please be careful. I’ve seen many girls go down a bad road from using the pipe.”  
“It’s not that. I’ve stopped.” What Esme didn’t say is that she’d stopped because she had run out, and it was damn hard to get any when the Blinders shadowed your every move.  
“Still, it seems like our Tom has said or done something. I will never understand why he can’t just leave well enough alone. There are some things I need to attend to, but if you want me to stay…”  
“It’s nothing, Polly. Tommy spoke to me about the drinking. I know that he his reasons, but he’s holding me to a standard that he can’t adhere to himself. It can be frustrating. You have known me for a long time now, Pol. You know that it is in my nature to resist being told what to do, especially by the likes of Thomas Shelby. Go. I will have my bath and go to bed.”  
Polly accepted her (partially true) explanation and left her to her bath. She knew that Esme had never been one to cower down under scrutiny, and she certainly never took shit off of Tommy. 

Esme’s head was still buzzing as she sank into the soothing, warm water, but it didn’t take long for her to unwind. She was submerged nearly to her chin, and her head lolled against the side of the tub- eyes closed, lips slightly parted. She had not felt this blissed out without opium since before…no, she couldn’t think of what happened at Christmas. She couldn’t bear it, so she pushed it out of her mind.   
After several minutes, Esme heard the doorknob turn and felt a slight breeze cool her wet hair. She halfway opened her eyes and saw Tommy, in trousers and his undershirt, come creeping into her room. She instinctively covered her breasts with her arms, and tilted her head up to meet his gaze.   
“You still don’t know how to knock.”  
“I did not want to alert anyone that I was coming into your room, you being naked in the bath and all.” Tommy pursed his lips and tried to hide the smile that played around his eyes.  
“But nobody else is here. Polly went home for the night.” Esme looked up through her lashes at him.  
“Is that so?” He put his hands in his pockets and rocked back and forth on his heels, “No one in this house but you and me?”  
“Yes.”   
“Were I to join you in the bath, no one would know?”  
“I don’t think there’s room, Thomas.”  
He continued, “If I were to lie in your bed and keep you company while you have your bath, no one would know?”  
“I suppose not.” Esme cocked an eyebrow and gave Tommy a sideways smile.  
Tommy lay down on Esme’s bed and lit a cigarette. She could hear the tobacco and paper crackle as he deeply inhaled the smoke. He was out of her direct line of sight but she was aware of his piercing blue eyes upon her. She was still drunk enough that her inhibitions were dulled, so she stretched her arms above her head and arched her back. Her slick, erect nipples just peeked over the water. She heard the bed slightly creak and smiled to herself. She fished around in the tub until she found the cake of soap, and started gliding it over her shoulders and collarbones, letting the suds run down her breasts. Tommy cleared his throat and shifted positions. Esme lifted her left leg out of the now soapy water and traced the soapy lather up her calf, slowly inching her way up her thigh. She heard Tommy’s feet hit the floor, and suddenly he loomed over the tub.  
“Let me help you with that.” He knelt beside the tub, took the soap from her hands, and reached down into the water. He found her right leg and lifted it, soaking his undershirt in the process. He caressed her calf with the soap, slowly moving up her leg to her knee and then to her thigh. Esme’s breath hitched a little when his hands reached her inner thigh. He looked at her with raw desire as he caressed it, inching closer and closer to the heat just beyond.   
This time, when she arched her back it was an involuntary reaction to the shockwaves traveling through her body as Tommy touched her. At first he ghosted over her center, teasing and torturing her with his hesitancy, then he became more forceful, as she writhed and moaned under his hand. She came up out of the water grasping at his shirt, pulling him down closer to her. His mouth found hers and he breathed her name onto her lips. “Esme, are you sure you want this?”  
She didn’t answer him, but grabbed his hair, almost violently, and pulled his body closer to hers. Water soaked the floor, and Tommy stood, lifting her out of the water completely. He crossed the small room in a few steps and fell onto the bed with Esme’s soaking body below him. She wrapped her legs around his hips and ground herself against his already drenched length. Her hands clawed at his back, trying to pull his shirt up. He wrenched himself away from her for long enough to peel the sodden fabric up over his head and flung it across the room.   
He hovered above her, stunned at the sight before him. Her glossy black hair clung to her shoulders and fanned out behind her. Her dewy skin glowed, slick with bathwater and sweat. But her eyes, her eyes were what transfixed him, unable to move. To say that her eyes looked wild would be a gross understatement. Her pupils swallowed him whole, the deep sable color of her irises nearly crowded out. They bored into his own with a frightening intensity. She looked feral. As he hovered above her, chest heaving and weak with want her, he had a flash of conscience. Was she in her right mind, and should this happen yet?  
He squeezed his eyes shut and inhaled deeply. When he opened them, he saw that Esme had come to herself enough to question him.  
“Tommy, what’s the matter?” She reached up to touch his face with one hand while the other hand caressed the taut muscles of the arm which supported his weight.  
He leaned down to kiss her, tenderly and deeply, and she responded by sliding her hands under the waistband of his pants. He stilled beneath her touch and asked her, “Are you sure that you are ready?”   
This time she faltered. “Why would you ask me that, Thomas? I don’t want to think. Can’t you understand that? I am sick to death of thinking.” She stared up at the ceiling, trying her best to blink back the tears that threatened to leak from the corners of her eyes.   
Hovering above her, he saw the tears that she tried to will away. She turned her head to the side.  
“Esme, look at me. Look at me.” He took her chin in his hand and forced her face him. “I want you. I am mad as hell with myself for asking you, but I don’t want to become something that you regret. I want to build something with you.”   
He leant down and tenderly kissed her, and as he began to pull away, she sighed, “Tommy, I need you.” She wrapped her legs around him again and shifted until his hardness lined up with the throbbing gap between her legs. She held him spellbound as she worked her hips, and he surrendered to the rhythm of her movements, no more questioning, no more thinking. She craved the feeling of his skin on hers and reached for the button on his trousers. Tommy was delirious with lust, and did not dare to stop her this time. She had him in her hand and began to stroke him.   
He responded to her touch by returning to the part of her that ached for him. She moaned into his shoulder as his fingers slipped inside of her. His mouth hungrily searched for hers, and his lips pressed urgently against hers. His tongue, teeth, and breath all claimed hers as she shuddered out her climax and he spilled hot onto her belly.


	10. The Battle Begins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tommy and Esme rendezvous in the office until Arthur shows up. The Wood family threaten the safety of Esme and the children, so Tommy, Arthur, and the Blinders ride out to stop them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slow burn, Tommy x Esme, grief, guilt, lust, drugs…What’s not to love?

Tommy’s breath was hot on her ear, then his soft lips grazed her neck. He pulled her hair to the side and left a trail of wet kisses leading down to the top of her spine. Esme stood frozen to the spot beside Tommy’s desk where she had come to pick up a ledger. The afternoon sun painted the room with an amber glow and dust motes danced in the air. His touch made her radiant, and she drew energy from him. She closed her eyes and leaned back into his touch, quietly moaning and dropping the ledger book. When she lazily opened her eyes, she saw the tumbler of whiskey on Tommy’s desk. Afternoon rays warmed the liquid and bounced prisms off the cut glass. She couldn’t wait to taste it on his tongue.   
But the low hum of voices just outside the door reminded Esme that they were not alone.  
“Thomas, we can’t”  
“Why not?”  
“It’s just that… We’re not meant to…Anyone could come in…” Her voice trailed off into a sigh as he unfastened the button at the nape of her neck and began tracing his fingertips down her spine.   
“To my office? Unannounced?” Tommy smiled against her skin and quietly laughed, “I don’t think so, luv.”  
Esme had been working with Tommy for three weeks, and in that time there had been no shortage of longing looks, lingering touches, and stolen kisses. Time and again she would tell herself that they needed to be more careful, but somehow they were always drawn back to each other no matter who was around. Tommy always needed her to take a letter or go over a file. Esme had no end of questions about invoices and inventories. Each time the door to Tommy’s office closed behind them, they found it harder to keep their hands to themselves.  
That afternoon in the warm glow of Tommy’s office, every fiber of her being wanted to let him do whatever his depraved mind was plotting. He had begun grinding against her and murmuring in Romani about all the things he wanted to do to her, but as he reached another button her instinct for preservation kicked in.   
“Tommy…” she moaned, as she wriggled free and crossed to the other side of the room while doing up the buttons on her dress.   
When she turned to face him, his back was to her. His shoulders moved with the heaviness of his breathing. Being near to each other was exquisite torture. She longed to completely give in to him, but held herself back; she had too much to lose. Tommy lit a cigarette and took several long drags before clearing his throat to speak.   
“Esme, if I could conjure up a world where there was only you and me, I would. If I could remove all of the past, all the doubts, all the pain, all your responsibilities, I would.” He leaned his head back and made a sweeping gesture with his arm, trailing smoke and ash as he went on, “You are more than the keeper of his memory.”  
A beam of sunlight shone through the window and struck Tommy’s hand. Ashes drifted like snowflakes.  
“You need me, Es, and I need you.” He turned to face her and found her eyes brimming with tears.  
“And yet, our circumstances prevent us from giving in to that need because we listen to our better angels,” she whispered. “What about Polly? Hmmm? What will I tell my kids?”  
He understood her lingering emotional turmoil over John and was careful not to make demands beyond those that she was able to cede. He went to her and tenderly brushed her hair away from her face. Tucking stray locks back into her braid, he clucked his tongue and spoke softly to her, “bengalo bala (devilish hair).”   
She smiled through her tears and put her arms around his neck.   
With all her heart she wished that he could speak his words into existence, forget the past, move beyond all of her doubt and pain. If only she could know that she wouldn’t lose the hard earned respect of the Shelbys. Arthur and Linda had become indispensable to her, and Polly was almost like a mother these days. She longed to be happy and carefree and to lay down in the arms of a good man at night, but she was afraid of the cost. Esme snuggled into the warmth of his chest and shut out everything except the beat of his heart.  
Just then, there was a commotion in the shop, and the low rumble of voices became a roar. Arthur could be heard above them all, shouting orders, “Bring ‘round two trucks and load ‘em up! We need guns from the hold! Right! Move your fookin’ arses!”  
They listened, caught up in a reverie, still embracing each other as Arthur barged through the office door, “Tommy!”  
Snapped back to reality, they quickly separated, but not before Arthur saw them.  
“Esme,” he nodded in her direction, then his eyes shifted back and forth between Esme and Tommy a few times before he continued. “Tommy, the Wood family are camped outside Black Patch. They plan to move on us. I’ve got two trucks loading. We can cut them off and end this tonight.”  
Tommy’s face turned murderous and his jaw clenched. “Alright, let’s end it tonight.”   
He turned to Esme who had sheer panic written across her features. “You have to be careful Tommy.” Her voice cracked when she spoke his name. She swallowed hard, “You as well, Arthur. I know what they are capable of doing. I have seen it with my own eyes”  
Arthur’s face was guileless, as he always wore his thoughts and emotions on the outside, and it was obvious that Arthur knew. Esme looked at him with pleading eyes, silently begging him to understand the strange arrangement that she and Tommy had gotten themselves into.   
Tommy clocked the wordless exchange between Arthur and Esme and thought fuck it. Tired of hiding, he took Esme in his arms and squeezed her tightly. “Take two guns from the safe, find Polly, and stay here with the kids. We will leave enough good men on the lane, but don’t go out for any reason.”  
He drew back and Esme grabbed his shoulders, “Please, Tommy,” Her black eyes searched the cool planes of his face, as if she were trying to memorize every sharp line and shadow, “I need you.”  
He took her face in his hands and gently kissed her. “I’ll come back. I promise. This will all be over soon, eh?”  
Arthur stood dumbfounded until Tommy turned to him, “Alright, let’s go.”  
Arthur waited until they got into the truck before he spoke, “What the bloody ‘ell was that, Tom?”  
Tommy rolled a cigarette across his bottom lip and lit it, the match illuminating both of their faces in the twilight. “It was exactly what it looked like, brother.”  
“So…uh…you and Esme?” Arthur sounded like he didn’t quite know what to say.  
“Arthur, I am with Esme now. She needs someone to help her with…everything. It’s for real, Arthur. That’s all.”  
They drove for a long time in silence, “Well, if that’s the way it is, Tommy…”  
“That’s the way it is.”  
Arthur tapped out a line of snow on the back of his hand and hoovered it in one go. He pinched the end of his nose and laughed, “Polly will be mad as hell!”  
Tommy smirked and rolled his eyes, “When is she not.”


	11. Waiting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Esme and Polly wait for news about the battle between the Blinders and the Wood's. Esme succumbs to the temptation of opium. When Tommy comes home, Polly discovers the secret he and Esme have tried to hide.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slow burn, Tommy x Esme, grief, guilt, lust, drugs…What’s not to love?

After Tommy and Arthur left there was a flurry of excitement in the shop. Piles of money were shoved into cash bags and heaved into the safe. Counting could wait until tomorrow. Files and ledgers were hastily locked into drawers, and the office, which usually hummed like a bee hive, became silent and deserted within a matter of minutes. The only person left in the shop was a message runner, a skinny seven year old girl with curly auburn hair and eyes the color of coffee. Esme asked her where Polly had gone.  
“Gone to the shops, Mrs. Shelby”  
Esme fished a shilling from her pocket and told the child, “Go to Mrs. Gray. Tell her that Mr. Shelby needs her to come home now.” The child hesitated. She was afraid to give an order to Polly Gray, even for a shilling, but Esme assured her that it was very important. “Go home after you’ve delivered the message. Don’t dawdle, child, and stay out of the lane for the rest of the evening.”  
“Yes, Mrs. Shelby!”  
Esme’s heart pounded in her ears. It was increasingly hard for her to think straight, but she did as Tommy had told her. She found two guns and locked up the shop. As she turned to go through to the Shelby home, she glanced into Tommy’s office. An amber glass of whiskey still sat on his desk where he had left it. She went to his desk and stood a moment, savoring the faint scent of cigarette smoke and Tommy’s skin. Her trembling fingers trailed a path to the glass and she raised it to her lips. With a quickly whispered a prayer, keep him safe tonight, she finished Tommy’s drink.  
Esme hurried through the Shelby house into the kitchen. Maisie, the woman who helped her around the house, was finishing supper.  
Esme abruptly asked her, “Where are the children?”  
“They are washing up. What on earth is the matter Mrs. Shelby? You’re as pale as a ghost.”  
Esme tried her best to assume an air of calm before speaking again, “There’s been a family emergency. You’ll need to go home now.”  
“But supper isn’t quite ready.”  
“I’ll finish it up; go on home now,” Esme insisted.  
“Oh.” Maisie got her meaning then and quickly gathered her things. She hesitated at the door for a moment and looked back at Esme. “Be careful, Mrs. Shelby.”  
As Maisie left 6 Watery Lane Polly approached, burdened with packages. Esme held the door open, relieved Polly of her bundles, and bolted the door behind her.  
Polly was aggravated. “Your messenger couldn’t help me with my packages. Said it was Tommy’s orders and she had to go directly home. What is so important that I need to carry my own shopping through the streets of Small Heath?” She stopped her ranting for long enough to light a cigarette and finally took in the worry on Esme’s face.  
She found it hard to push the words past her lips, as if saying it out loud made it all the more real. “The Wood Family. Arthur received word that they were planning to raid Watery Lane tonight. He and…,” she paused to swallow the lump that was forming in her throat, “He and Thomas have taken two truckloads of men. They mean to attack them first.”  
Polly exhaled heavily, “Oh shit.” For a moment Polly’s face mirrored Esme’s, a mix of desperation and fear. However, Polly, being more used to Blinder exploits quickly recovered. She took a long drag of her cigarette and blew the smoke toward the ceiling. With her free hand she lifted Esme’s chin and gave her a reassuring smile. “Well, our men shall take care of this ugly business tonight, and we will all have some measure of peace.”  
Esme stood still, staring at Polly and shaking while Polly began getting plates out of the cupboard and carrying on with the usual routine of the evening. “Esme, call the children down to tea.”  
Esme’s legs turned to jelly, and she sank down into a chair. She couldn’t seem to speak. All she could think of was Tommy’s blood soaking his white shirt, just like John’s had. She was spiraling toward a very dark place. Call the children to tea? Just pretend that none of this is happening?  
“Esme,” Polly spoke in a stern low voice, “pull yourself together. I’ll not have you scaring the shit out of the children with that face.”  
Esme grimaced, and tears started to overflow onto her cheeks. She balled her fists and gnashed her teeth. “I can’t go through this again. He could die and it’s all my fault.”  
“What?” Polly stepped away from the cupboard and turned to look, wide-eyed, at Esme.  
“They could die and it’s all my fault,” she cried.  
Polly slapped Esme hard enough to make her see stars then enveloped her in a fierce embrace. Esme heaved and sobbed into Polly’s chest, wetting Polly’s dress front with tears and grasping at her arms.  
“Stop it!” She shook Esme by the shoulders, “I said stop it!”  
Esme choked back a sob and turned off her tears.  
Polly rubbed Esme’s cheek where her blow had landed and spoke in an authoritative tone, “You have got to pull yourself together. Tommy and Arthur won’t let them win. We are stronger than they are, and our boys are fighting for family. The Woods are fighting for money, for a ransom, and there’s no heart in it.”  
Esme quieted a bit, and Polly continued, “As for us, we will wait. We will pretend that nothing is happening, and we will wait. Because that’s often what we Shelby women have to do.”  
Esme thought of all the times that she had been the Shelby woman who waited. She waited to be married to John. She waited months for the babies to come. She waited nights for John to come home from the pub. She waited for John to come home from jail. She waited for the nightmares to stop, and now she was waiting for Tommy to come back alive. Waiting was indeed what Shelby women did when they had no choice.  
When her kids came downstairs to have supper she kept up a good front. She kept up a façade for their sakes, behaving as if her heart wasn’t in her throat. She and Polly passed the time watching the children play. The littlest ones fought over who would sit in Aunt Polly’s lap while she told them fairy stories, and the older ones laughed as she tried to fit all the little ones on her lap at once. By the time the children had been put to bed, Esme was completely exhausted from pretending that everything was fine.  
When the kids were fast asleep, she and Polly settled in the parlor to continue waiting. They sat in silence for what felt like hours until Polly finally spoke, “I feel like there’s something on your mind. Something besides what our men have gone to do tonight. I’ve noticed a change in you over the past few weeks.”  
What little calm Esme had managed to find seemed to evaporate. Her blood ran cold and her mind spun wildly. How could she possibly know? They’d been so careful not to attract her attention, but Polly had an intuition for these things. She had to say something, so she went with something true.  
“Yeah, Pol. I’m really tired with going back to work and really not myself these days.” Esme avoided Polly’s eyes and prayed that her explanation would be accepted.  
Polly still faced her, eyebrows arched, head cocked, waiting for more.  
Esme picked at a fraying seam on her dress, focusing all her attention on the blue strings she was pulling and knotting. She started again, “I’m staying away from the snow and the smoke, but I still have trouble in my head. Then there’s the threats from the Wood family; I’m always scared for the kids.” Esme’s eyes threatened tears again, so she blinked and wiped below her eyes with the back of her hand.  
Polly seemed to accept this answer, saying, “If you ever need to talk about it, I’m here. I have seen my share of the hard side of life. Remember that you are a Shelby. You and the children belong here, and you will always have us.”  
“Thank you, Pol.” Esme wondered if those words would hold true when Polly found out about Tommy and her. She felt like such a coward for keeping it a secret, but it would all come to light soon enough.  
Now and again Esme would shiver, even though the parlor was plenty warm. She pulled her shawl around herself and rubbed her arms in an attempt to generate a little heat. She thought of the little packet wrapped in brown paper that was secreted away in the last returned parcel of laundry. She needed the shaking to stop. She needed the visions of Tommy’s blood soaking through his white shirt to stop. “I think I’ll go upstairs and get a sweater.”  
“It’s quite warm. Do you think you’re getting a cold?”  
Polly’s fussing over her made her feel even guiltier. Sure, Polly had slapped the shit out of her earlier, but it was clearly done in an attempt to shock her into reality. She really cared about Esme, and that made it harder to keep secrets.  
“Yeah, that must be it.”  
In the darkness of her room, Esme fumbled with a match. Her hands were shaking so much that she could hardly light the lamp. The flame burned hot, illuminating her face which was already bright with anticipation. She reached under her mattress and pulled out a rolled up cloth. Contained within was a pipe, a needle and a packet of opium wrapped in brown paper. Esme didn’t need much, just enough to knock the edge off until this horrible night was over. She pinched a tiny amount, placed it on the needle, and held it over the flame. As the paste bubbled, she felt calmer. She quickly rolled the tar into a ball and placed it on the pipe. Not too much, I can’t nod off and have Polly come looking for me. She lit the sticky brown substance and inhaled slowly. Carefully. Her pupils pinned and her eyelids fluttered and closed.  
An anesthetic tranquility washed over her body, and the sharp edges of her worry became softer and more manageable. Moving in slow motion, she stashed her gear and pulled a sweater from the wardrobe. I can do this. Just pretend that nothing is wrong. She took a few deep breaths and went to sit and wait.  
When she returned to the parlor, Polly was sleeping. Esme settled into a chair and slipped into a fitful dream. In the dream, Tommy was in the lane and he was coming back to her. He wore a white shirt, and it was open at the neck. His braces hung down on eachr side of his brown trousers. He carried a shotgun and the sun was out. No, he was in the country. There was a dog and it was flushing out a covey of quail. He threw the shotgun to the ground and shot the quail with his pistol.  
Esme awoke with a start, covered in a thin sheen of sweat. The sound of an engine had broken the silence of the night. Polly rose from the divan and readied her gun as they listened to the dull slam of the vehicle’s door. Footsteps approached, and when the door swung open, Tommy loomed on the threshold.  
Esme’s breath came fast and her heart pounded in time with the refrain that repeated in her head- He’s alive, he’s alive, he’s alive…  
Polly sighed with relief and approached him, peppering him with questions, “Is it over, Thomas?”  
“Yes, it is done.” Tommy stared directly over Polly’s shoulder at Esme, hardly able to control himself.  
“And Arthur, is Arthur alright?” Polly continued.  
“Yeah, he is home with Linda.” Every atom of Tommy’s being was screaming to go to her, wrap her up in his arms and never let her go.  
“Did any of our men get hurt?”  
“Gerry’s arm was grazed, but no injuries of consequence were incurred.” His ice blue eyes drank in the sight of her, sleepy eyed, hair mussed, cheeks flushed, all warm in a sweater.  
Finally, Polly realized what had held Tommy’s attention since the moment he walked in. Following his eyes she turned back to look at Esme, who was melting under his liquid gaze. He and Esme were locked onto each other and the energy between them was unmistakable. Polly spun back around on Tommy and glared at him. “Oh my God! Tommy, what have you done to her?”  
“Polly, calm down. It’s not what you think.” Thomas kept his voice even and cool.  
“Tell me I’m wrong! Tell me you haven’t!”  
“Don’t do this right now, Pol. Calm down.”  
“Calm down? Bloody hell, Tommy! Has Small Heath run so short of whores that you have to go after your own brother’s widow?”  
A small voice came from Esme, “No, don’t say it like that.”  
Polly swung around and jabbed a finger at Esme, hissing through clenched teeth, “I expected better from you.”  
Distressed at the sight of Polly going after Esme, Tommy bellowed, “Polly, you fucking let her be! It’s none of your concern!”  
Polly scoffed, “Like hell it’s not! As usual, Thomas, you are doing your thinking with your cock! I won’t let you ruin this family!”  
Tommy put himself between Polly and Esme and shouted, “I love her! I love her, and she loves me! She is family!”  
“Damn right she’s family, she’s your brother’s wife.” Polly’s face was a mask of disgust and rage.  
“Widow, my brother’s widow! She deserves a life of her own. She has every right to go on living, and whether you like it or not, I will be a part of her life.”  
“Oh, please. She’s not in her right mind! You’ve bent her over your desk a couple of times and you’ve got her bewitched.”  
A red curtain of rage fell over Tommy’s eyes and he drew back to slap Polly. Esme grabbed his arm shouting, “No, Tommy, stop it!” She had begun crying again, hard. “She doesn’t mean it, Tommy. You don’t mean it, Polly.” Esme sobbed, falling to her knees and rocking, “Both of you, stop fighting!”  
Tommy got down on his knees with her, wrapping his arms around her and murmuring soft words into her hair. “Shhh, I’ve got you Es. It’s alright, I’m here.” Tommy looked up at Polly and spoke with a cold finality, “I think you should leave.”  
Polly stared at the pair in disbelief. She doubted Tommy’s sincerity. She had seen him manipulate so many people, but Esme was a woman of honor. Esme’s feelings were real, and if Tommy toyed with her she would be destroyed. Polly picked up her purse and stalked to the door. Before she walked out into the night she turned back to Tommy and growled, “You had better not hurt her, or I will cut your black heart out.”


	12. Afterglow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Of course Polly was furious that Esme and Tommy had developed feelings for each other, and Esme’s visceral reaction to Polly’s rage sent her crashing to the floor in a sobbing heap. Somehow, nuzzled against the warm, salty skin of Tommy’s neck, none of that mattered anymore. Very adult subject matter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slow burn, Tommy x Esme, grief, guilt, lust, drugs…What’s not to love?

He had done exactly what he said he would. Her enemies had disappeared and her family was safe. She was softly sighing in the arms of a man who kept his promises.  
The events of the day were mercifully foggy: the battle between the Blinders and the Wood Family, the long night of waiting to hear of their fates, Polly’s epiphany and the subsequent argument, all seemed like they happened long ago to someone else. All that mattered now was that she belonged to Tommy, and he belonged to her.   
He felt the flutter of her eyelashes against his neck and shifted her slightly, moving his arm to a more comfortable position.   
“Hey,” he whispered.   
“Hey,” she smiled into his neck and kissed him, savoring the taste: a mixture of sweat, cologne, and something else that was just Tommy. “How long have I been out?”  
“Not long.” He leaned back to take in the sight of her. Even with bleary eyes and tear-streaked kohl on her cheeks she was beautiful. She had been dozing in his arms, peaceful in the afterglow.

Earlier that night after Polly stormed out, Esme surrendered to Tommy. He had knelt behind her on the floor whispering in Romani and calming her with his caresses. “They’re gone, Esme. They won’t return. They will never threaten us again.”  
“What about Polly?” Esme spoke softly, “I’ve lost her. She has been like a mum to me these past months, and now she hates me.”  
“She is angry now. Give her time” He turned Esme around to face him. She was so broken and vulnerable. God, she had been through enough, and he hated that his need for her, his pursuit of her had caused her even more pain.  
He closed his eyes and buried his face in her neck, taking in the scent of her hair with every breath. His heart still raced from the violence he had committed in her name. Three men were dead, and the remainder had sworn to fall in with the Lees. Leftover adrenaline had fueled the row he had with Polly. Under normal circumstances, he would have been able to remain calm in the face of her anger, but tonight he had nearly lost control.  
Esme’s embrace grew fierce as she pushed herself deeper into his arms. “I was so afraid of losing you. The waiting was unbearable, I watched the clock, I… God, I tried to make it all go away…,” she ran her fingers through his glossy black hair, “But you’re here now. Thank Christ, you’re here.”   
Tommy straightened up to meet her eyes. He needed her to see the resolve he felt. He needed her to see that he wanted nothing more than her. “I’m here, Es, I’m not going anywhere.” He pulled her face close to his and pressed his mouth to hers, hot with need. She yielded to his lips and tongue, arching her back and pressing her hips into Tommy’s.  
Kneeling before the fireplace, feeling Esme’s heart beating next to his own, no one else mattered. He had waited for her as well. He felt like a part of him knew that this was meant to happen from the moment she returned to Small Heath, but fear, pride, and worry kept her from surrendering to him. Tonight he would make sure that she would never deny him again. Tommy was, after all, a selfish man, and he wanted to claim her. With every breath, his resolve to make her his own was strengthened. He grasped at her hips and her ass, bringing every inch of her body closer to his. He wedged a thigh between her legs and moved her onto it where she undulated, breathless from the friction.  
Leaning back, she slid her sweater off of her shoulders. He trailed his fingers around the back of her neck and began undoing buttons, picking up where he had left off earlier in his office. Esme slid her dress off of one shoulder and Tommy mouthed the pale skin revealed there. He pulled the other side down, revealing the creamy skin at the top of Esme’s breasts, and lay her down in the glow of the firelight. Tommy sat back for a moment, his eyes hungrily swept the length of her while the flames threw light and shadows on the aquiline planes of his face. He took the hem of her dress in his hand and pulled it, slowly revealing the curves of her body as he finished undressing her. Aching with need she writhed before him. She grabbed his shirt and pulled him down, her fingers tearing at his buttons, and her mouth begging him to take her. “Tommy, I need you, please…”  
He grabbed a handful of her tangled hair and pulled her to him. “You are mine, Esme. All mine,” he rasped.   
She peeled his shirt from his back, ran her hands over the sculpted muscles of his chest, and traced the downy trail that led down his stomach. Tommy unbuttoned his trousers and slid them off. His cock strained heavy and hard against her thigh as he hovered over her, struggling to maintain control. He could not wait to devour her.  
His mouth was unrelenting and insistent upon hers, and she moaned into him. He moved down to her neck sucking hard at the tender skin there as she panted, “Tommmy, please, God, fuck me!” He lost all control at the sound of her beautiful mouth uttering such a filthy word. He shifted from where he had been grinding on her thigh and reached between her legs; she was hot and slick. She rolled her hips and helped him to get into position.  
He paused to look into her deep brown eyes and whispered, “Esme, there’s no turning back after this.”   
Her face was flushed with raw want, and she answered his statement by lifting her hips.  
He slid inside of her and groaned. His lust for her was overwhelming, and he had to still himself for a moment to keep from cumming. He regained control and began to ride her slowly. His fingers sank into the soft curves of her hips as he set his pace, each thrust deeper than the last.   
The anesthetizing effects of the opium had worn off, and her senses were in overdrive. Tommy’s every movement was amplified, and she was in a frenzied state of desire. She wantonly bit and sucked at his shoulders, neck, and lips, and her nails left marks on the milky skin of his back. In return, he drove into her with an animalistic fury.  
She arched her back so that his pelvis ground against her clit and she could feel her juices overflowing. He felt better than she could ever have imagined. She broke out in a cold sweat and a delicious tension built up inside of her core. She wrapped her legs around him more tightly and rocked her hips until she could feel herself contract and squeeze Tommy’s length. He gazed at her, mouth slack, pupils blown, and drunk with desire. Just as she was coming down from her high, his eyes rolled back in his head as he exploded inside of her.   
He collapsed on top of her, his head cradled between her breasts. They lay for a long while until their heartbeats slowed and their breathing returned to normal. After a while, Tommy rolled to his side and propped up on his elbow. He looked at her earnestly, then finally spoke.  
“If this is going to work, I will need to set the tone with the family. I will have to make it clear that this is not an affair. It is not some dalliance resulting from the thrill of the forbidden.”   
As he licked a calloused thumb and wiped away her smudged eyeliner, her deep brown eyes searched his face.  
“So all the things that you told Polly… that is really how you feel.”   
Without hesitation he answered, “Yes. I love you. I want a life with you. You and everything that you bring.”  
Esme felt an overwhelming awe. Looking at Tommy in the firelight, the angles of his cheekbones, the curves of his lips, the deep blue sea within his eyes, she wondered how he could possibly want to take on a mess like her. The women he had been involved with in the past were posh and elegant, and they inhabited the social strata that Tommy aspired to reach. May, Grace…  
It was as if he could read her mind, and he quickly reassured her. “Es, I feel like for so long I have been searching. I’ve reached for things that I thought would fill the void within me and people who I thought would prove my worthiness. I’ve attained power, wealth, social position, but,” he stressed, “nothing and no one has made me feel like you do. I am home. You are my home.” He traced her lips with a finger and went on, “And before you say anything about Polly, she will come around. She loves you, and she wants the kids to be nearby. Just give it time. I’m not letting you go.”  
Esme settled her head into the sweet spot between Tommy’s shoulder and neck and closed her eyes in contentment. Tomorrow she would wake up in the arms of a good man who loved her. She would make breakfast, and they would talk to her children about their new living arrangements. Small Heath would eventually get used to the fact that Mrs. Shelby was with a different Mr. Shelby, and yes, even Polly would come around. Tommy and Esme, against all odds, would live happily ever after.

I know, I know, I know! This is wholly unrealistic, but it’s my party and I say Tommy x Esme get a fairy tale ending!


	13. Happy Birthday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tommy is spending far too much time at work. When he blows off his birthday surprise in favor of working overtime, Esme wonders if he is actually working some ho…
> 
> I thought I was finished with this series, but I just can’t leave these two crazy kids alone! I don’t know what to call this, a one shot? a P.S.? I may add to this from time to time, because Tommy x Esme is the little crackship that could.
> 
> This takes place about a year after Ch. 12.

“I have to go back to the factory, union business, I’ll be home late.”

Tommy drew on the cigarette in he held in his lips and fastened the straps on his new holster- a birthday gift from Esme. Esme eyed the leaded crystal ashtray on his desk and fantasized about knocking Tommy in the head with it. That would be one way of keeping him at home.

“It’s your birthday, Tommy. Can’t Arthur handle it for bloody once?”

Tommy pulled on his jacket and mumbled around the cigarette that was still dangling from his lips. “It’s Arthur who has cocked everything up.”

Tommy’s birthday was a perfect excuse to make him take the day off, and she had worked so hard to make sure that he could have fun and relax for once. The poor girl had cooked all day and laid on a feast for the Shelbys and the Lees. They drank and danced all afternoon, but she had managed to shoo them all out of the house at a decent hour so that she could have some much needed alone time with Tommy. Now, after all her efforts, she faced another night between cold sheets. 

Esme poured herself another whiskey and scowled at him. Tommy, who was always absorbed in his work, had been little more than a rumor to Esme lately. She’d lost track of how many mornings she’d woken up alone. More often than not, Tommy either worked through the night at the factory or crashed at the desk in his study. She missed him. She missed all of him. Esme badly needed a shag. 

“Oh, come ’ere,” he said in a soothing tone. He knew that she felt neglected and hated to disappoint her, yet again, but business was business. Tommy pulled her into an embrace and rested his chin on top of her head, “Thank you for my birthday surprises.”

In a last ditch effort to convince him to stay, she slipped her hand between his legs and palmed his balls. “Can’t you stay for a little longer? I haven’t given you all of your presents yet.” 

Tommy groaned appreciatively as he nuzzled her neck, “It’ll have to wait until tomorrow, love.” 

Esme wriggled out of his arms and snatched the whiskey decanter from Tommy’s desk, “Oh, fook off!” she growled as she stormed out of the room. He could hear her ranting as she stomped toward their bedroom, “Union business! Union business! I’ll get my revolver and end all this rutting union business. That Edens needs a bullet, the bloody reprobate!”

Esme was too mad to cry even though her heart was breaking. She understood that being a Shelby meant dealing with odd hours and mysterious business deals, but the amount of time that Tommy spent away from home had steadily increased in recent months. It was to the point that she had begun to wonder if he had another woman in town. Polly tried to allay Esme’s suspicions. She constantly told her how much Tommy had changed since settling down with her, how he had found balance and contentment because of her influence. “Tommy has always needed someone like you,” Polly would say, “You keep him close to his roots and make him want to be a better man.” She wanted to believe it, but he was still only a man. 

Esme had abandoned her glass and drank whiskey straight from the decanter as she paced around the massive bedroom that she shared with Tommy. She had made the opulent space cozier by hanging tapestries on the walls and draping scarves over the lamps because the largesse of the estate was still a bit much for her taste. One thing that she could appreciate about Tommy’s wealth was the stable of horses that it afforded them. Esme was born riding. She and Tommy bonded over their love of horses even before they came together as a couple. In the early days, when John was still alive and Tommy avoided her like the plague, the one thing that they could agree on was the merits of a good horse. As she paced and drank she decided that staying cooped in in the house was no good. With all jealous thoughts and doubts circling around in her head, a ride was exactly what she needed. 

She took off her Egyptian cuff bracelets and long glass beaded necklaces and dropped them on her dressing table. She then shed the green silk brocade dress that she had bought especially for the party and hung it over the chair. Arthur had told her how pretty she looked tonight, so had Johnny Dogs, but Tommy was too preoccupied with the impending strike to do much more than grunt in agreement with them. Hanging in the closet was a long dress with a full gathered skirt that she wore for riding. It was as comfortable as a second skin and reminded her of a simpler time. After getting ready to ride, she looked down at the emerald and gold band that Tommy had given to her as a sign of his love and hoped for both of their sakes that her suspicions were wrong. 

Esme grabbed another bottle of Irish whiskey from the cabinet on her way out to the stables. She pulled out the cork with her teeth and spat it into the garden as she walked. As she turned the bottle up, her mind returned to the pretty union organizer, Jesse Edens, and she told herself that Edens was not Tommy’s type. She hated to think the worst, but she also didn’t want to be taken for a fool. She tried to reason with herself, “It’s just business, he belongs to me.” But, if he was messing around, she wouldn’t give up without a fight.

Once inside the stable, she put down the bottle and went straight to the stall of her favorite mare, Rosu, a spirited bay that Tommy had given her. On the day that Tommy brought the mare home, he and Esme rode out to the river and made love on the grassy bank. It felt like a thousand years ago, but she had to somehow find a way back there. She missed the way that he used to rush home in time to take her riding before dinner. Sometimes she would pack food and a bed roll, and they would ride out to spend the night under the stars. They would come back the next morning with the smell of campfire smoke clinging to their hair and clothes, and if he was a few hours late for work he didn’t care. Where was that Tommy now? She stroked the mare’s velvety muzzle and ran her fingers through her forelocks. “How ‘bout we go for a ride, girl?” She patted the horse’s withers and began getting her ready. 

Just as she was about to climb onto the mare’s back she heard the stable door creak and thought that it was probably the caretaker coming to see why the lights were on. She called out, “It’s me, thought it was a nice night for a ride.” 

As she stepped out of the stall her breath caught in her throat. It was Tommy. He had picked up the abandoned whiskey bottle that Esme had left near the entrance and stood drinking it in the doorway. “Where’s the cork, love?”

“I spat it in the garden. Didn’t plan on needing it.”

Tommy chuckled as he walked toward her, “You’re going to drink a whole bottle of Kilvannon and stay on the back of an ‘orse?” He motioned toward the blood bay mare.

“What are you doing here, Thomas? Thought you had business to attend to.” Esme’s kept her voice cold even though she was relieved to see him home.

Tommy walked toward her saying, “I got halfway there, and I thought about what you said about Arthur. You are right. He needs to learn how to clean up his own messes. So, I turned back and told him to handle it.” 

By the time he stopped talking, he had reached where she was standing. He sat the bottle down in the hay and took her hands, bringing them up to his mouth. While gazing into her eyes, he kissed the ring on Esme’s finger. “I’ve missed you, love.”

Esme felt warmth spread throughout her body and her knees got weak. Tommy could still do that to her after a year’s time, but she stubbornly decided to resist him until she could put her fears to rest. “We need to have a little chat.”

Tommy’s face fell and he lifted his chin, “About?”

“I want to know if you are fucking around on me.”

Her blunt reply took him by surprise. Tommy let go of her hands and stepped back. His brows knitted together incredulously and he scoffed, “Why, Es, why would you say such a thing?”

“Well, you’re never here, and when you are your mind is somewhere else…”

Tommy reached down and picked up the bottle, He took a generous swig before answering, “Esme, I have nearly a thousand men depending on me. Their jobs depend on my decisions. Forgive me if I am preoccupied.”

Esme’s nostrils flared as she spat the words, “But not too preoccupied to come running like a dog whenever Jesse Edens blows her whistle.” 

Tommy shook his head in disbelief, “You’ve got to be having me on. That’s what this is really about? It’s business. That is all. You think I enjoy spending time with her? Hmmm? Going over contracts, dealing with her threats?”

Esme crossed her arms and soldiered on, “I’ve seen you do business, Tom. It’s a fair question.” He rolled his eyes and reached out to her, but she swatted his hand away. “May, Lizzie, that Dutchess…Just tell me Tom, is Jesse Edens the reason why you’re never at home?”

Esme could infuriate Tommy like no one else. How could she think such a thing? He had been faithful to her since the day she swept back into his life. He clinched his teeth and the muscles in his jaws flexed as he struggled with his temper. Mainly because she had a point. His past behavior with women had been abominable. If Miss Edens had come into his orbit a couple of years ago he would have had her signing labor contracts while bent over a desk. Esme had changed all that.

“Answer me, Thomas! Are you fucking her, yes or no?”

Tommy threw the bottle and Esme winced as it shattered against the wall. “No! Dammit, Esme! Don’t you understand, there is no one else but you!” he panted, “It’s all for you. All the long hours, all the money, this,” he gestured up to the rafters of the stable, “It wouldn’t mean a thing to me without you!”

Tommy’s reaction lit a fire within Esme. Her breath came fast and she glowed with desire.

He loved her with all his being and worked night and day to keep her and the family that she shared with him safe. He wanted to make sure that they had everything their hearts could desire and so much money that no one could ever touch them, but looking into Esme’s fierce eyes he realized that all she wanted was him. Behind the anger, frustration, and doubt was a woman who loved him completely and was terrified of losing him. He pulled her into his arms and held her close, “I’m never home because I want to give you everything, but if it is tearing us apart I will find a way to change it.”

“How?” she whispered against his chest, her body hummed with wanting him, but her mind remained skeptical.

“Well, for a start, Arthur can become more active in negotiations, and I’ve been thinking that it’s time for Finn to become more involved in the management end of the business.”

Esme swayed to the steady beat of his heart, “And then you’ll be home at night?”

“Yes, most nights.” He lifted Esme’s chin and fixed her with his sky blue eyes. “You are all that I want, but I have responsibilities to handle, love. I’ll talk to Arthur and Finn. It will take some time.” 

He drew her into a kiss, and she caressed his face with her hands. “I need you, Tom. The house is so empty when you aren’t here. I get lost in my own head, I’m sorry.”

Closing his eyes he breathed in the heady mixture of whiskey, hay, and the spices in her perfume. He worked his way down to her jawline and whispered into her neck, “I’m yours, Es. Never doubt my love for you, alright?” She nodded her head, shivering as he nipped the sensitive skin just above her collarbone. Their breath showed hot and foggy in the chilly night as she whispered words of surrender onto his skin, and they sank down into the soft hay. “It’s not yet midnight; you still owe me the rest of my birthday present.” 

She smiled and ran her fingers through his dark hair, “Happy birthday, love.”


End file.
